


This Is Home

by TheOriginalSilvertongue



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Asgard (Marvel), Gen, Grief/Mourning, Jotunn Loki (Marvel), Orphans, Post-Thor: Ragnarok (2017), brief mention of suicidal thoughts, norsebros
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-15
Updated: 2020-01-15
Packaged: 2021-02-27 03:41:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 782
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22260493
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheOriginalSilvertongue/pseuds/TheOriginalSilvertongue
Summary: Post Thor: Ragnarok Loki reflects on the events of the recent past, his own motivations, and where he belongs now.
Relationships: Frigga | Freyja & Loki & Odin & Thor (Marvel), Frigga | Freyja & Loki & Odin (Marvel), Hela & Loki & Thor (Marvel), Loki & Odin & Thor (Marvel), Loki & Odin (Marvel), Loki & Thor (Marvel), Odin & Thor (Marvel)
Comments: 4
Kudos: 21





	This Is Home

**Author's Note:**

> CW: Brief mention of suicidal ideation and attempt consistent with MCU canon for Loki in Thor (2011).

I am yet uncertain if I merit the grief of an orphan. Those whom I knew and called my mother and father are dead. That much is beyond dispute. They were not my real parents, but they raised me as their own. I daresay they loved me. That had been in dispute, at least in my own mind for awhile. I found out very late that my identity was a lie. Not Asgardian, not a son of Odin, I was completely unmade. That was how I felt when I learned of my true parentage. I was a fraud, a monster; it explained so much. It explained why I never felt like I fit in, why I would never be my brother's equal, why I would never get what I'd been promised my whole life.

As an orphan, there is nobody left who knew you at your most innocent. There is nobody to cast their loving, indulgent parental gaze when you cry "Watch me!". There is no one with feet planted firmly in the void and arms held out saying "Stop!". And there never will be again. Make no mistake: whether you are fifty years old or five hundred, the loss is every bit as keen. You are never too old to not feel alone. It is a new kind of loneliness, one I tried too hard to avoid, not by protecting those I loved but by protecting myself from them. Perhaps I cast it in a more fair light than it deserves in reality. I often felt unnoticed even when they lived. Neither my mother nor father were ultimately enough to turn me from my fall.

It was my brother who did that for so long. Or I should say my own love of my brother did it. Thor was many things but careful was rarely one of them. He knew little of my feelings or struggles. Far too little to have thought to intervene. It was my own devotion to Thor that bound me to him strongly enough to convince myself that he needed me. That he loved me I do not doubt, but Thor's love was fierce and wild and contained more demand than tenderness. Still, I loved Thor above all others. It was a tainted love, to be sure, hot with greed and thick with envy. But it was love. When I learned he was not my brother, that I was in truth the same sort of vile beast he had bragged many times of slaying, it nearly crushed what was left of me. My last lifeline, gone. I think in goading him to fight me afterwards, I would not have minded so much if he'd killed me. Would have saved me the trouble and shame of having to do it myself later.

Thor is an orphan now, even if I am not. Somewhere, I assume I have a mother. Or had one. I know nothing of her. One more thing I probably should have asked my real father before I killed him to secure the gratitude and affection of my adopted one. Too late now. Too late for so many things.

Asgard, Odin, Frigga, Volstagg, Hogun, Laufey, Hela... all gone.  
Peace is for the dead. For the living, there is pain.

On Sakaar, I'd thought Thor among the dead as well. I suppose we're still not even on that, my two alleged deaths to his one. My relief at finding him alive was only overshadowed by my own fear that his presence would be the death of us both. In the end, it had been, or so I'd expected. When I left Sakaar to follow him back to Asgard in a stolen ship with a mere handful of rag-tag rebels, I expected us to die there. It was a good death trying to save our people. Yes, our people, not just his. I may not be Asgardian in blood, but my heart beats no differently than theirs. Asgard was my home too. They are my people far more than my own race likely ever will be. I am the rightful king of Jotunheim, but there is no throne there for me.

My place is here at my brother's side, just as it's always been. Orphans or not, we still have each other. I will bear witness to Thor's achievements, and I will fight to keep him from failing. I could have stayed in Sakaar, could probably even be ruling that realm now. I could have left Thor to perish in his foolish fight against a foe I knew we could not beat. I didn't.

For the first time in my life, I chose this freely. _This is home._

**Author's Note:**

> accompanying artwork for the piece:
> 
> Concrit, comments, feedback, questions, kudos all welcome!


End file.
